


15 kisses in 15 AUs

by aphreal



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15 ficlets featuring Alistair and my Alexia Cousland, each set in a different AU and each written to a specific kiss location prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forehead kiss

She holds him gently, his head resting against her shoulder, eyes closed. She would like to stroke his face, brush her fingers over his hair, but she can’t get her gauntlets off right now, so she settles for leaning her cheek against his forehead.

He’s a mess, spattered with blood, but she doesn’t care. They both are, and it won’t be the first time her armor’s gotten covered in blood. It probably won’t even be the hundredth. She doubts it will be the last, either. Even though it feels like it.

“You didn’t have to do this, love. We could have found another way.” Her words are soft, barely audible, but they aren’t meant to carry.

“Warden? We should not remain here. The battle isn’t over.”

She raises her head at the sound of Wynne’s voice. The use of her title is doubtless intended to remind her of her responsibilities, that she has obligations, duties.

For the first time in her life, Alexia finds that she doesn’t care.

“Someone else can deal with it. Anyone can kill darkspawn. They don’t need a Grey Warden any more, now that the Archdemon is dead.”

Bowing her head, she presses a kiss to his forehead, the skin beneath her lips already starting to grow cold.


	2. Cheek kiss

Alistair concluded that he must hate himself. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for being here.

When the invitations had arrived at the Warden compound – one sent to him as a quasi-relative of the groom and a second delivered to Rory as a childhood friend of the bride – he should have burned them, making a little pyre of the life he could have had. But once the Warden Commander had laid eyes on the heavy paper embossed with formal seals, the choice was entirely out of Alistair’s hands. He and Rory were all but forced to go, their presence to foster good relationships between the Grey Wardens and the nobility in post-Blight Ferelden.

Alistair wondered if a Grey Warden had ever been ordered to attend a wedding before.

Arriving at Redcliffe, he thought the castle had never felt more hostile, even when actively under siege by animated corpses. At least no one had expected him to smile and make polite conversation with them. The clusters of nobility present for the new arl’s wedding were another story, of course, all of them eager to converse with the celebrated Grey Warden heroes, presumably just so they could say that they had. Without Rory there to smooth over the worst of his lapses in manners, Alistair suspected he would have offended enough people to be asked to leave before the ceremony even started. He couldn’t decide whether he should be grateful or resentful for his fellow Warden’s assistance.

If there was one moment that made the entire miserable day almost worth it, it was seeing Bryce Cousland, alive and well, beaming with joy as he escorted his daughter down the aisle to her future husband. At least Alistair had proof he’d done something right in all of this.

He tried his best to avoid looking at the bride – which was undoubtedly among the worst sins a wedding guest could commit – resplendent in Cousland blue, her golden hair outshining her jewelry, and her sparkling eyes brighter than both combined. His resolve to not look failed utterly within moments, and he stared captivated at the most beautiful woman he’d ever known until her image blurred and wavered.

Being in love with the bride probably ranked a lot higher on the list of wedding faux pas than failing to look at her.

Maybe he’d get extra points for managing to do both simultaneously when the time came for her to kiss her new husband. Alistair had always been grateful to Teagan for numerous small kindnesses scattered through his childhood, but at the moment, he could have gladly seen his uncle dead. Wanting to murder the groom might elevate him to a whole new tier of wedding guest crimes. Or maybe not, given the amount of petty infighting among the nobility. For all he knew, half of the banns in attendance were wishing Teagan on a pyre. Of course, they would be motivated by jealousy over his newly granted arling rather than the arlessa that had come with it.

When the ceremony finally, mercifully ended, Alistair thought he’d gotten through the worst of the day. Until a brightly beaming Oriana caught him trying to slip away and herded him into the receiving line, scolding him for being so shy and firmly insisting that her sister-in-law would want to see the family’s savior. What he wanted didn’t seem to matter. He didn’t know how that kept surprising him; it really shouldn’t at this point.

As the line inched sluggishly along, still too fast to let him delay the inevitable meeting for as long as he wanted, Alistair remembered the reception line tradition of guests kissing the bride – generally on the cheek or hand – for luck. He’d never been sure if the luck was meant for her or the guests, but in this case he could say with some certainty it wasn’t for him.

Alistair took a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. He could get through this. He’d faced an archdemon; he could handle a wedding reception. He was going be calm and polite and casual. He was going to be sick.

Swallowing against the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat, he forced a strained smile onto his face as Teagan turned to greet him.

“Alistair!” A delighted smile spread across his uncle’s face, and Alistair struggled to return it as the older man clasped his hand in a firm, welcoming grip. “It’s good you were able to come. I saw Warden Gilmore earlier and hoped that meant you were in attendance somewhere.”

“Um, yes… The Warden Commander sent us with his regards. He’s grateful for your support during the Blight and hopes the Grey Wardens can continue to enjoy a mutually beneficial relationship with the Arling of Redcliffe.” The Warden Commander had actually said no such thing, but it sounded like something he would say. And it gave Alistair a topic of conversation other than being sick with jealousy.

Teagan nodded solemnly. “Tell your Commander that the Grey Wardens will always be welcome at Redcliffe so long as my family holds the arling.” Teagan fixed him with an intense gaze, refusing to let his eyes slip away. “And Alistair, no matter what has happened in the past, _you_ will always have a place here, as well. A home, should you want one.”

He swallowed hard. “That’s very kind of you, uncle.” And it truly was. Alistair found the offer strangely touching, even though he had no intention of ever setting foot in Redcliffe again after today.

Teagan’s final words before turning to greet the next guest faded beneath the rushing of blood in his ears as Alistair finally came face to face with Alexia for the first time since the post-Blight celebration when he’d discovered she was engaged. Maker, he couldn’t do this.

She looked even more beautiful up close than she had across the chantry, and he could scarcely breathe past the lump in his throat. Her smile shredded what was left of his heart as he recognized the polite but sincere greeting she gave strangers rather than an intimate sharing meant just for him. The love of his life barely remembered his name, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Alistair staggered clumsily through the appropriate small talk, congratulating her and wishing her well. She thanked him again for his part in saving her family, as she’d done both other times they’d spoken since the night of the attack. It was probably the only thing she remembered about him, the Grey Warden lurking in an upstairs hallway making sure none of Howe’s men slipped past the guards to reach the family’s rooms. To reach her.

There were worse legacies to have. At least this was something he felt proud of, something he knew he’d gotten right.

They quickly exhausted the obligatory pleasantries – or rather, Alexia did while he stumbled along, tripping over his words as he utterly failed to match her bright, joyous manner – and he couldn’t stall any longer. Steeling himself, heart in his throat and chest feeling hollow, he leaned in for the required kiss, the briefest possible brush of his lips on her cheek.

It was still too much.

The feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, simply being so close to her. His head swam, and for a moment he felt dizzy until he remembered how to breathe. It took every bit of strength he could muster not to bury his face against her neck and sob, begging for her to remember what they’d had.

Instead, he pulled back, offering her a forced smile that felt more like a sickly grimace. “Congratulations again, and much joy to you, arlessa.”

She huffed in mock offense. “After everything you did for my family… and now you practically are family!” Alexia drew Teagan’s attention with a hand placed lightly on his forearm. “Isn’t he, dear?”

Alistair hadn’t believed he could possibly feel worse, but something sharp twisted in his chest at the intimate, sweet looks the newlyweds exchanged. A hint of it lingered when she turned back to Alistair, and he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, the fresh pain guarding him against the pain of knowing she would never look at him like that.

“So I won’t stand for hearing ‘arlessa’ from you.” Unaware of his internal struggle, Alexia tilted her head with a warm, teasing smile.  “I think we’re beyond titles, aren’t we, Warden?”

Her eyes, her smile, her voice. All so familiar and so utterly wrong. Throat thick with unshed tears, he managed to croak out a few final words, the most sincere thing he’d said all day. “Be happy, Lexia.”  

Grasping at the rapidly unraveling tatters of his self-control, Alistair fled, ignoring the concerned and scandalized looks he drew from the other guests. He laid out a plan for his next steps while he put as much distance between himself and the happy couple as possible.

Tonight, he was going to get as drunk as humanly possible. Once he and Rory returned to the Warden compound, he would ask for a transfer. To Weisshaupt or Orlais or Maker-damned Antiva. Anywhere, really, as long as it got him away from Ferelden, because he couldn’t stay here. 


	3. Nose kiss

Weary and in need of warm food, the group located a suitable cavern that met the usual requirements; it was defensible, not overly large, away from the main tunnels, and out of range of significant Darkspawn presence. By mutual unspoken agreement, they fell into the standard routines of setting up a camp, the process quick and efficient as a result of both repetition and spartan necessity; they carried little in the way of possessions to set up.

As Bethany started the fire and Anders groused to Nate about yet another meal of deepstalker, Alexia became aware of a void in the conversation. Scanning the cavern, she located Alistair in a shadowed corner, away from the group at the fire, seated on a pile of rubble with his head bowed. Frowning, Alexia crossed to him, fixing a gentle smile on her face.

He looked up at her approach, hearing the scrape of her boots on the stone floor of the cavern, and she felt a flash of relief that he’d noticed. This wouldn’t be one of the worst nights, then.

She crouched down in front of him, resting a hand on his knee. “Can I help?”

He shrugged, mustering the faint ghost of a smile. “It’s loud tonight, that’s all.”

Alexia nodded, grimacing sympathetically. The Song. He never seemed to be free of it now, its haunting sounds creeping in on the edges of his thoughts more often every day, drawing him away from reality, away from her.

But his current preoccupation felt like more than the usual, something else weighing on his mind. So Alexia waited, watching him struggle with his thoughts until the unspoken words finally emerged.

“I’m starting to forget things, to lose pieces.” Alistair met her gaze, his eyes filled with anguish. “There are these gaps in my thoughts, and I don’t know what I’ve lost or what I’m going to forget about next. I don’t want to stop being me, Lexia.”

Gently, Alexia placed a hand on the side of his face, letting him lean his cheek against it and close his eyes, taking comfort from her touch. His words had the tone of pained confession, so she bit the inside of her lip and didn’t mention that the gaps covered the times he’d shared this fear before. When his eyes reopened, a shade more lucid and less panicked, she responded, keeping her voice light and teasing.

“Isolating yourself from everyone and brooding isn’t going to help keep you as you. It certainly doesn’t sound like the man I married. Are you trying to spare the others the shock of seeing that the King of Ferelden is only human?”

“I’m trying not to remind them of what they have to look forward to.” His disgusted expression slowly shifted to a weak half smile. “And we abdicated.”

“Yes, we did.” Alexia felt her own lips curl upwards with relief that she’d drawn him out. “Am I still your queen, in spite of it?”

“Always.”

“Then I have a command for you.” She smiled, tracing her thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re going to come with me over to the fire to eat some of Nate’s horrible deepstalker and listen to Oghren’s even worse humor. Afterwards, we’ll volunteer to take a joint watch and sit beside a fire talking for half the night like we did those first few months before I realized I was hopelessly in love with you.” Alexia tilted her head to the side. “Think you can manage that?”

Alistair’s smile remained faint, but it felt less forced. “I’ll try it as an alternative to brooding in a corner all night. Since you asked.”

“Good.” Alexia stood and offered a hand to help him up, steadying him when he lost his footing on the loose rocks covering uneven ground. Impulsively, she closed the last small gap to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Alistair’s startled laugh echoed in the small cavern, a familiar sound that she’d heard far too rarely in recent days. The tension in her chest eased slightly at the sound as she twined her fingers with his and gave him a gentle tug towards the fire.

Maybe this would be one of the better nights after all. 


	4. Back of hand kiss

Alexia hoped her polite smile would conceal her clenched teeth as she caught sight of the man approaching her. Once he drew close enough that she could no longer pretend he might be seeking someone else, she dropped into a shallow curtsey, showing barely enough deference to meet the demands of protocol.

He nodded his head formally in response, unruffled by her insolence. “Might I have the honor of a dance, your grace?”

She managed not to sneer or snarl, responding with feigned sweetness. “How could I refuse the king?”

Alexia’s smile remained firmly fixed in place as she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her to the dance floor, the other couples clearing room for them out of deference to the man the Landsmeet had inexplicably chosen to place on the throne of Ferelden. She moved fluidly into a dance hold, placing one hand on her partner’s shoulder and allowing him to take the other. The music began as soon as their stance was set, the musicians having naturally waited for the king to be ready.

She prepared to make the expected light, meaningless conversation, but his eyes were unfocused, gaze fixed over her shoulder. “I take it this wasn’t your idea.”

Her remark drew his attention, prompting a half smirk. “No, I understand that Ferelden has been celebrating Satinalia at least since the days of Calenhad. So I can hardly take credit for it.”

Alexia pursed her lips in annoyance, steadfastly ignoring her accompanying amusement. It would be far easier to remember the reasons she detested this man without his moments of being genuinely likeable.

Rather than persisting in the face of deliberate evasion, Alexia abandoned her attempt at conversation, focusing instead on taking the man’s measure in this new arena. Alexia had permitted him to lead, at least initially, and she would admit to being surprised at how well he was doing. The king moved with more confidence than she would have expected from a jumped-up commoner, although his lack of grace betrayed that the steps came less naturally to him than her usual partners. He’d clearly been coached well.

Although possibly not well enough. Alexia detected moments of hesitation, times when his footwork faltered or his timing suffered. He simply couldn’t move as reflexively through the steps as a true noble who’d been raised in his current station. It would take very little effort for her to capitalize on his mistakes, trip him up and reveal the king as a foolish pretender out of place at a court ball. A simple slip, her own foot misplaced and him unable to compensate. Alexia could manage it easily.

But she refrained. Such petty cruelty should be beneath her, and it would do her far more credit in the eyes of observers to shepherd the novice king through the measures with elegance. Besides, he didn’t truly deserve this sort of humiliation.

If she was going to have a confrontation with the king over his failings, let it be handled openly. His fitness to rule should be judged by how well he ruled rather than how well he danced.

As the music continued, Alexia grew frustrated. He’d asked her to dance and then largely ignored her while doing so. She’d clearly been right in suspecting ulterior motives, and this couldn’t pass without comment.

“Tell the privy council they should stop wasting your time by forcing you to court a woman promised elsewhere.”

His brow furrowed at her sudden bluntness, but at least she’d gotten his attention. “Howe?”

“Nathaniel and I have an agreement, yes.” With effort, she managed to keep her tone civil. “He’s a dear friend, and you and your Grey Warden cronies have taken everything from him. I won’t apologize to you or to anyone for wanting to give him back a portion of his life and dignity.”

The king responded with cruel mockery. “So for a ring and a bedding you’re going to give him what his father tried to take in blood.”

Alexia’s lack of reaction was a credit to her late mother. She kept her face fixed into a pleasant, neutral expression despite wanting to rage. The only thing that betrayed her fury was her right hand clenching, in reflexive search of a sword hilt to grip. But that wouldn’t be visible to anyone watching, and given the thick padding of his doublet’s shoulder, the king himself might not even have noticed her lapse in control.

Taking a moment to be certain that she could open her mouth without screaming, Alexia responded with a mild observation, trusting the steel in her tone to give it weight. “I can see why no one’s permitted to carry arms in your presence, sire.”

“You would draw on a king?” She couldn’t tell whether his surprise was genuine or more mockery. Ultimately, it didn’t matter because she refused to be swayed by his humor.

“If one spoke to me like that while I had my sword, I’d do more than draw.”

“I see.” He appeared interested rather than offended. “Maybe I’ll have to give you a chance sometime. Preferably with practice blades.”

Alexia bristled at his casual dismissal of any threat she might pose. Yet another man who refused to believe a teyrna could wield a blade until she had it at his throat. Unfortunately, she’d likely never get the chance to prove herself to this one. The chancellor, at least, would be far too cautious to let her near his precious puppet king when steel was involved; he’d nearly had her thrown out for an attack with mere words.

The remainder of the dance passed in a cold, icy silence as Alexia considered herself relieved of the obligation to make any further conversation. She refused to even look at her partner until the orchestra had finished, and they parted from the close dance hold.

The king kept hold of her hand a moment longer, however, startling her by raising it to his lips in a formal gesture that had largely fallen out of fashion. His touch was gentler than she would have expected, and when she met his eyes, the lack of hostility startled her. His gaze felt appraising rather than cold, and she disliked the way his warm breath ghosted across the back of her hand.

Unsettled and angry, Alexia withdrew her hand from his grip and turned away to leave the dance floor, putting the king firmly behind her and hoping he could be removed from her thoughts as easily. 


	5. Fingertips kiss

Alexia trudged across the camp after spending a double shift in the cook tent, paying off favors to someone or another. She owed so many people at this point that she’d begun to lose track of the details. Spending most of the day scrubbing burnt debris off of soot-crusted cookware hadn’t helped her memory for fine details – or her mood. But she would reluctantly have to agree with the cooks that cleaning was the best use of her lack of culinary skills. Even if it made for a mind-numbingly tedious and insidiously grimy task.

There was an upside, though. Alexia’s uncomplaining acceptance of even the most menial work had gone a long way in endearing her to some of her fellow Wardens, especially those who had initially been skeptical about the noble’s daughter slumming with common soldiers. In an armed camp full of conscripts and reluctant recruits with no alternatives, a well-off volunteer became a target of mistrust and speculation. Not surprisingly, even the most elaborate and outrageous rumors Alexia had heard about her alleged hidden motives for Joining the Grey Wardens had been nowhere near to the truth.

The ones who had come closest, ironically, advocated a much simpler, nearly archetypal story. The abandoned woman following her soldier lover off to war. Alexia would have been offended by the implications if they hadn’t been, at least to a certain extent, accurate. While Alistair hadn’t been her only motivation for becoming a Grey Warden, she would be lying if she tried to claim he hadn’t factored heavily into her decision.

Just then, she rounded the corner of a row of tents and caught sight of him, making his way through the camp in a different direction. From his leisurely pace and relaxed posture, he couldn’t be headed for a patrol – which she already knew. Alexia considered manufacturing an excuse to follow him and talk, but her weariness won out. Given her current mood, she doubted she would have the patience to navigate the conflicting mess of emotions that talking to Alistair always seemed to turn into.

Of course, just as she’d decided to steer clear of him, Alistair spotted her and altered his course to meet up with her. Alexia chided herself for the bubble of joy she felt simply because he’d chosen to seek out her company. Maker’s breath, she was getting pathetic. Not to mention desperate.

Her self-recrimination entirely failed to dim the smile that spread across her face at Alistair’s approach.

“Hey there, are you lost?”

While Alexia curbed her initial desire to respond far less literally than he’d likely meant, Alistair chuckled nervously and elaborated.

“I thought I should check because your tent’s on completely the other side of the camp, and since you’re the new guy – new  girl? – new recruit, it’s my job to keep an eye on you. And I’d like to do a better job of it than the group when I was the new guy.” He grimaced. “I’m perfectly capable of getting lost on my own, but I don’t think they tried to help, exactly. So anyway, if you’ve gotten turned around, I could walk you back to your tent, if you’d like.”

_Only if you’re planning to join me in it._ Alexia firmly ignored her immediate thought, opting for a response less likely to embarrass them both. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not lost. I’m on my way back after kitchen patrol.” She gestured vaguely behind her in the direction of the cook tent.

He frowned. “In that case, maybe I should pass on dinner tonight.”

Alexia blinked, taken aback. “Is that a dig at my cooking?” Admittedly, it would be well deserved, but he shouldn’t have any way of knowing that.

Alistair shook his head. “But if your hands look like that from working with food, it’s not food I want to eat. And that’s coming from a Grey Warden.”

Frowning, Alexia looked down at her hands, fingers reddened from scouring and creases limned with grime. She could only imagine how much Oriana would scold her for the unacceptable state of her nails. Maybe he had a point.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to go hungry. I’ve been cleaning pots and things all afternoon, not making dinner.”

His sigh of exaggerated relief brought a smirk to her face, but before she could tease him about it, his brow wrinkled. “It looks like your hands weren’t the only casualty in the war against soot.”

Before she realized what he was doing, Alistair reached up to wipe away a smear of grime from her face.

Alexia’s breath caught at the unexpected contact, her pulse leaping at his touch. She sternly told herself how ridiculous it was to be this affected by such a trivial gesture, but that couldn’t dampen the swell of emotions in response to Alistair touching her after so long. Even if he didn’t mean anything by it.

Reflexively, she turned her head to follow his hand at he withdrew it, his fingers brushing over her lips. The hitch in her breath felt nearly like a sob, and she instantly regretted giving in to such a stupid impulse. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

The blush coming to his cheeks dashed that hope, and while she struggled to get her emotions under control and salvage things, he stammered out an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… um… I should go take care of… things. Important things.” He wiggled his fingers in an awkward little wave before glancing at her lips and curling his hand up as his blush deepened. “I’ll see you later.”

He all but fled from her, and Alexia wished there was a convenient wall made of something stronger than canvas so she could collapse against it. This had all seemed so easy back at Highever, but ever since Ostagar, she had no idea what she was doing, and all of it turned out to be wrong.

Void take it, she needed a break from this mess. Someone in the camp must have some decent alcohol, and she already owed enough people favors that she’d hardly notice one more. Forget anything else she’d had in mind for the evening; she was going to spend it alone in her tent getting drunk and feeling sorry for herself. Because anything else she wanted to do at the moment would be an even worse plan. 


	6. Collarbone kiss

Alexia kept the sash that had been used to tie their hands together. It seemed a waste not to, since the finely woven fabric was smooth to the touch and almost the perfect shade of blue. She wondered where it had come from originally, how the captain had happened to have something so perfect already on hand. Running the cloth through her hands, she considered the color and feel of it, the tight weave. Keeping it might have more than a sentimental purpose.

 

As she had suspected, the sash looked amazing woven around Alistair’s wrists, binding them firmly together. The gesture was largely symbolic, of course. Despite her sailor’s knots, she suspected he could have easily gotten his hands free if he’d wanted to. The point was that she knew he wouldn’t try. She’d always been fascinated by how this strong, stubborn man became so pliant and malleable, only for her. Although she’d never made it so obvious or explicit before. She stared at him, half dressed and leaning against her cabin wall with his hands bound, waiting for her to act. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“I do have one problem.” His sly grin suggested it couldn’t be anything too serious. “You’re wearing too much, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Alexia trailed a hand down his bare chest, watching his skin prickle with goosebumps in the wake of her touch. “I suppose you do have a point.” She stepped back and unfastened her jacket, slowly undoing the long row of gold-washed buttons. A smirk curled her lips as his fingers twitched, clearly wanting to hurry the process along. With a wicked grin, she continued at her leisurely pace, drawing out the first pleasant torture of the evening.

When she finally reached the end, she shrugged out of the jacket, folding it neatly and setting it aside before closing the distance between them. As she pressed against him, she could feel the heat of his skin through her thin cotton shirt “Better?”

Alistair made a soft, appreciative noise at the contact, and Alexia forestalled any further answer by winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss. He responded fervently, hungry and eager, still making up for all of the time they had lost through their mutual stupidity.

After they parted, she murmured against his lips. “Patience, love. We have the whole watch free, and I intend to make use of it.”

His breath hitched with a little moan, and she slipped away as he tried to recapture her mouth. Alexia left a line of teasing kisses along his jaw, enjoying the freshly shaved skin smooth under her lips and tongue. She stroked her hands over his shoulders and chest as she whispered in his ear, promises and endearments. He trembled under her hands, and she savored his reaction, wondering if he responded to her touch or the sudden flood of open affection, all the things they never said.

Which was a far too serious thought to be dealing with at the moment. On impulse, Alexia flicked her tongue across his ear, chuckling at his startled twitch. She sucked on his earlobe before making her way down his throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping. Hands resting on his upper arms, she could feel the tension in his muscles, how much he wanted to pull his hands free and reciprocate. Alexia smiled against his skin, pleased he was resisting.

A scrape of her teeth over his pulse point drew an eager gasp, and Alexia ran a hand up into his hair to hold him in place while she explored the other reactions she could get from him. She ended up not needing the steadying hand, given the way he leaned into her, pressing against her mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Alexia let her hand drift back down to his chest, stroking and caressing as she went.

Her lips found the sensitive spot on his collarbone, and she sucked on it until he moaned, his head dropping back against the bulkhead. Savoring his reaction, she continued drawing it out, not relenting until he switched to whimpering and she could feel the renewed tension in his muscles as he struggled to stay still and let her have control.

Alexia skimmed her lips across his chest, pausing to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, and the skin beneath her lips rumbled with a near growl of frustration.

Lifting her head, she was met with a slightly bashful grin. “I’ve never been very good at being patient.”

Alexia shivered at the low, husky tone of desire in his voice, but she chuckled, trying not to show how much her own resolve frayed with every needy gasp or whimper that escaped his throat. She leaned in close enough that her lips nearly brushed his as she spoke. “If you want your hands free, you’ll have to persuade me that I can’t wait another moment to have you touch me.”

He accepted her challenge eagerly, lunging forward to claim her mouth in a desperate kiss, all lips and tongue and teeth, and full of raw need so intense she had to grip onto his shoulders as her knees threatened to buckle. A timeless moment later, when she realized that she’d tilted her head aside to let him mark a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, Alexia accepted that he’d won. Pulling away, she bit back a whine at the loss of contact, aching to touch and be touched.

“Bed, now.” Her voice sounded too breathy and ragged, but she could hardly care as she gave Alistair a gentle push and watched him sprawl back gracelessly across her bunk. Where he belonged. She never should have let him leave when he looked so good here, filling up her cabin with a sense of belonging and home.

Pausing, Alexia stripped off her boots and pants before joining him on the narrow bunk, crawling along it to sit straddling his thighs. She loved the way he stared openly at her legs, at the way she moved. The heat in his eyes made her feel graceful and gorgeous, utterly desirable.

“You’re keeping the shirt?” She couldn’t tell whether he sounded curious or disappointed.

Alexia tilted her head with a teasing grin. “I left it for you, since you seemed disappointed about not getting to undress me.”

He smiled, holding his hands up eagerly, offering the knotted sash to her.

Alexia toyed with one loose end, running the short fringe along his arm and watching him squirm as it tickled oversensitive skin. Then she reluctantly shook her head, chuckling at his groan of disappointed impatience. “Not just yet, love. Soon, I promise.”

Leaning forward, she balanced herself on the other arm, keeping her torso hovering mere inches above his. The other hand continued to play with the sash as she kissed him, starting out tender but quickly growing more heated. Once he was suitably distracted, Alexia began undoing the sash, thanking her years at sea for the skill to untie knots one handed entirely by feel.

As soon as Alistair realized his hands had been freed, he surprised her by reaching immediately for the tie on her braid, freeing her hair to fall down around them and burying his fingers in it as he pulled her back down into another long, intense kiss. Only then did his hands skim down her sides to slip under the hem of her shirt, and she let out an audible sigh of relief as his calloused palms finally pressed against her skin, resting at her waist as he held her tight against him.

“Mine.” Alistair’s voice held a tone of wonder and reverence.

Smiling, Alexia raised the sash to lay it on the pillow beside his head, a tangible reminder. “Always.” 


	7. Shoulder kiss

Alexia winced as she started the last round of stretches and her shoulder throbbed in protest at the rough treatment she’d just put it through. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the pain and pushed on through the end of her workout routine, trying to convince herself that it hurt less than it had yesterday.

She’d been doing considerably more reps and higher intensity exercises than her physical therapist had indicated, steadily ramping it up a little every day or two, once the discomfort of the previous regime became manageable. Her doctors doubtless wouldn’t approve, but their experience treating civilians couldn’t have prepared them to anticipate the determination, endurance, or conditioning of a trained marine. She knew how to push her body to its limits and thrive, and she had no intention of stopping now, just because she’d been removed from active combat duty. _Temporarily_ removed. Which she would correct as soon as she could get through a workout without her damned shoulder throbbing.

Frustrated, Alexia bent forward and wiped the sweat from her face with the hem of her favorite blue tank top – the one she used to sleep in but now reserved for her afternoon workouts – before starting her next set of stretches.

She’d nearly finished when the hiss of the door sliding open caused her to jolt upright, head whirling towards the open doorway. Alistair was supposed to be at work. But there he was, greeting her with that wide, beaming smile she usually loved to see.

At the moment, the sight of him sent her scrambling across the floor towards the couch, wrenching her sore shoulder as she reached too quickly for the tee shirt she’d stripped off at the start of her workout.

“Hey, hon. I got out of a meeting with the turians a little early and decided to slip home to take you out for lunch.” Alistair rounded the couch before she could pull the shirt over her head.

Panicky, she sat on the floor held the bundled fabric to her chest, trying to return his smile while her heartbeat thudded in her ears. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not exactly dressed for leaving the apartment.” Gesturing with her free hand, she indicated her workout clothes and sweaty hair.

She must have failed at sounding convincingly casual, because Alistair’s smile quickly faded into an expression of concern. “Are you okay? Did you pull something?”

He leaned down, extending a hand towards where she clutched at her shoulder, and Alexia flinched away, scooting back out of his reach. “I’m fine.”

Alistair stared at her for a moment then dropped heavily to sit on the couch, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m an idiot.”

Startled, Alexia frowned up at him, shaking her head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “I should have realized. You’ve been acting differently since the shooting. Wearing more to bed, locking the door when you’re showering, not changing in front of me. I’d thought that moving in here wasn’t – that _I_ wasn’t what you wanted after all.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Sorry for making it about me instead of helping you.”

“I don’t need you to…” She shook her head. “There’s nothing to help.”

Alistair reached for her again, and she gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to pull away as he set his hand over hers, still pressing the wadded shirt against her shoulder. “Why have you been hiding your scar from me?”

She could have handled accusation, but his tone of bewildered hurt made her eyes prickle with tears. Blinking rapidly, she looked away, staring at a flaw in the flooring rather than meeting his gaze.

“Hey, Lexia…” He slid off the couch to sit on the floor beside her, setting a hand on her knee, pointedly not reaching for her shoulder this time. “I don’t care that you have a new scar. I’ve got a lot more, and you’ve seen them all. Up close and in detail.”

He stroked a finger along her calf, and Alexia glared until he stopped, refusing to be distracted by his attempts at changing the mood. “None of those injuries stopped you.”

His short burst of laughter held little mirth. “Two of them nearly killed me.” He rubbed his thumb along her kneecap. “They probably would have if not for this talented, prepared lieutenant you might know.”

“And you were back on combat duty within 48 hours!” The dam finally broke, and the words she’d been holding back poured out. “It’s been weeks, and I’m still grounded. Indefinitely. And they’re right. I should be. What kind of marine can’t even aim a rifle?”

Alistair frowned, slowly shaking his head. “You’re an amazing marine for way more you’re your marksmanship.  And an even better officer. That’s an opinion from Teagan, by the way, not just coming from me.”

Despite being touched by the compliment, assuming it was genuine, Alexia shook her head stubbornly. “It doesn’t matter. If I was going to recover mobility in my shoulder, it would be happening by now. I’m not going back in the field, no matter how hard I push myself. My career is over.” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears, her voice breaking and betraying her as she clenched her hand tighter in the fabric wadded against her scarred shoulder. “I can’t look at myself in a mirror without seeing this scar that reminds me I’ve lost my purpose, that I’m a failure.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no…” Alistair wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest, and Alexia gratefully let him surround her with a feeling of warmth and security. “None of this is your fault, and you’ve still got the head and heart to be among the Alliance’s best. As for what you’ve lost…”

He gently took hold of her wrist, and Alexia nodded, this time letting him pull her hand away to reveal the scar she’d been concealing. A small puckered entry wound, such a little thing to have ruined her life. Alexia closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Alistair’s chest as he studied it, brushing his thumb lightly over the skin around the scar.

“You know what I see?” His voice was soft, heavy with emotion. “I see a reminder of what we didn’t lose. A few inches lower, and that assassin could have taken you from me completely. A scar is proof that you survived.”

Alistair shifted position, and she was surprised to feel his lips press a gentle kiss onto her shoulder, the sensation strangely indistinct on the thicker, less sensitive scar tissue. His warm breath tickled her bare skin as he spoke. “You don’t need to hide this from me, because all I see is proof of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

Alexia wiped at her eyes before raising her head off his chest. “Thank you.”

“For loving you?” He grinned fondly at her. “That doesn’t take work.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “For giving me perspective.”

She leaned in for a quick kiss, pulling away before he got ideas about turning it into anything more serious. “I meant it about taking a raincheck on your lunch offer, though. About all I’m up for at the moment is a shower.”

Alistair nodded as she pulled herself to her feet, looking at her with a thoughtful expression as an impish grin slowly formed. “That sounds like a good idea. Do you think Eamon would notice if I came back from lunch with damp hair?”

“I think he’ll be far too diplomatic to say anything if he does.”

Her change of verb tense wasn’t lost on him, and his grin broadened as she stretched out her good arm to help him up from the floor and lead him towards the bedroom and the shower. 


	8. Spine kiss

This really should have been a straightforward task.

It had certainly seemed simple enough when Alex had suggested it earlier in the day. “ _Your armor’s been rubbing at that cord. It’s mostly worn through. We should replace it later so you don’t lose your mother’s amulet again.”_ Simple. Straightforward. Nothing that should cause a problem.

Alex and Kaz had drawn first watch for the night. After everyone else turned into their tents and bedrolls following dinner, Lista came back to the fire with a length of cord and a hopeful look. _“Can you tie this on for me again?” “Even though the first one I did is falling off?” “Your knots held just fine. They’re solid on a cord that’s coming apart.”_ Of course, he’d agreed to help her. It was a simple, straightforward favor for a friend, nothing to think twice about.

Except now Alex found himself trying to tie knots in a cord that was too thin and inexplicably slippery. In the dark. With fingers that were suddenly clumsy and at least three sizes too big.

Squinting in the dim glow of the firelight, Alex bowed his head over Lista’s neck to see what he was doing. The knots kept slipping through his fumbling fingers, and he needed to make sure they would hold. This amulet was far too precious to Lista for him to risk her losing it because he couldn’t focus on what he was doing.

Of course, sitting right next to her like this, he had no idea how he could possibly pay attention to tying knots in a piece of cord. Alex swore he could feel the heat radiating off her body, warming the side of him away from the fire. This close, he couldn’t help but be aware of the scent of her skin, a hint of something feminine almost obscured by the steely tang of her armor. Alex’s breath stirred the fine hairs on the back of Lista’s neck, and he kept getting distracted by wisps of hair that had come free from her ponytail and brushed over his fingers as he worked. Lista’s uncharacteristic silence – no jokes, no sarcastic observations, only soft, even breathing – didn’t help matters any; her inane conversation would be even more welcome than usual if it got him to being quite so aware of every time his fingers brushed against her skin.

Alex finally tied off the last knot, hoping that it hadn’t taken him as embarrassingly long to do this as it had felt like. He tugged gently on the cord to confirm that his clumsily tied efforts wouldn’t unravel at the first snag. Satisfied that it would hold, he settled the makeshift necklace down against Lista’s neck, straightening it so the knots sat directly over her spine, the way she seemed to prefer it. Alex smoothed down the loose ends of the cord, reluctant to give up the excuse to be this close to her and unable to stop staring at the base of her neck.

In a camp that contained a woman who didn’t seem to know what a shirt was and one who thought strips of leather constituted an armored skirt, Alex somehow managed to be captivated by catching glimpses of Lista’s neck. Every time she was out of armor, he found himself staring at the tiny strip of skin visible between her hair and collar. It was like that tiny, unconscious glimpse of unguarded, bare skin represented everything he found so fascinating about her, the vulnerability never quite fully covered by humor and brashness, on display only if you knew where to look.

And here she was, hair pulled aside, deliberately exposing that vulnerability to him. Alex couldn’t stop himself from running his finger lightly over the skin he’d stared at so often. When Lista didn’t pull away, he gave in to temptation, leaning his head down the few inches it took to bring his lips into contact with the skin at the base of her neck, just beneath the knots he’d carefully placed over her spine.

Lista froze, her soft breathing catching in a startled gasp, and Alex instantly regretted his rash action, giving in to an insane impulse. In the long, drawn-out moment as Lista shifted to look at him, he searched for a way to get past this. But despite Alex’s usual skill with people and words, he couldn’t come up with a plausible innocent explanation for kissing a woman’s neck when she’d only asked him to tie on an amulet.

His worry evaporated when Lista turned with her head tilted and a tiny smirk on her face. The pink tint on her cheeks didn’t quite match the mischief sparkling in her eyes, but both reassured him that he hadn’t misjudged this quite so badly as he’d feared. “If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to make a move, I would have snapped that cord myself weeks ago.”

Alex blinked at her, feeling dizzy as the world shifted around inside his head. Weeks? “Instead of destroying property, you could have said something.”

“Really? Like what? ‘I need to talk to you about something, but first would you mind kissing me?’”

He chuckled at her lopsided grin. “I think that would have worked.”

“Oh… In that case…” Lista’s cheeks flushed darker, but her grin broadened as she looked up at him. “I guess we do have some things to talk about, but I’d really like it if you’d kiss me first.”

Returning her smile despite the flutter in his stomach, Alex put a steadying hand on her shoulder and finally closed the distance between them. 


	9. Throat kiss

She’d only left him for a minute. Alexia had asked Alistair to stay behind, safely out of sight in a neighbor’s walled garden, while she checked out the location of the most recent attack, hoping to draw less attention by going on her own.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned anything she didn’t already know. After all of the constables and the curious tramping through and confusing things, the site had told her nothing except that the vampires responsible were young and inexperienced, sloppy and unsure of their skills. Which was already evident from the careless and obvious pattern of fresh attacks over the past week. While she needed to find the fledging vampires and put an end to their unrestrained violence, the bigger question that continued to nag at her was who had let them loose with so little guidance. Someone was either being extremely careless or trying to start a war, and neither option boded well for her.

Frustrated, Alexia rounded the garden wall to tell Alistair that they were no closer to finding this new cluster of vampires. Only to discover that they’d found him.

Alistair stood in the center of the lawn, ringed by three unfamiliar vampires. They’d clearly driven him into an undefended position so they could surround him, taunting him and laughing with one another over his attempts to keep them back.

Heart in her throat, Alexia froze in place, pressing back into the shadows behind a trellis, hoping she hadn’t been seen. Against three vampires, however inexperienced they might be, she would need the advantage of surprise. Alexia watched them as they circled Alistair, getting a sense of how best to approach an attack. The way they moved confirmed that they were newly turned and on their own; they looked like awkward cubs rather than the graceful predators she was used to facing. Hopefully that would work to her benefit.

So far, Alistair was keeping the trio at arm’s length with well placed strikes from fists and boots, but she couldn’t help but think they were mostly toying with him. Unarmed against three vampires, Alexia wasn’t sure if her years of training would be enough; Alistair couldn’t possibly be prepared to hold off a serious attack. As soon as one of the vampires decided the game had lost its appeal, he would end up as badly injured as the string of victims that had put her on this gang’s trail. Alexia had no intention of delaying long enough to let that happen.

Gripping her sword, she tensed to spring into the open, hoping to disable one of the creatures before the other two recognized the danger. That might even the odds enough for her and Alistair to both get out of this mess unscathed. She could curse her stupidity that had gotten them into it later.

Just as she mentally lined up an angle for her first cut, the fourth vampire came into view from behind a shrubbery, shifting his place in the loose circle closing in on their prey.

Throat clenching shut, Alexia shrunk back into her cover, trying to think past the panicked thudding of her heartbeat. Three she could have managed, but four… She thought she could probably take on four vampires at once, especially fledglings like these, but she couldn’t do it while keeping Alistair safe. Not starting out this far away with him between her and her targets. If one of them gave in to bloodlust and went for him when she attacked, she’d be too busy holding off the others to do anything about it. She couldn’t risk triggering that attack.

Releasing the grip on her sword and abandoning her planned strike, Alexia searched franticly for another solution. She firmly ignored the echo of her mother’s voice in the back of her head, the stern reminder that she could never let her training partners become a higher priority than the purpose she trained for. Because she would be damned if she was going to let Alistair end up like Rory. Or worse.

Inspiration struck and, before she had time to think about exactly how reckless and risky this was, Alexia unbuckled her swordbelt. She concealed the weapon behind the garden trellis before stepping brazenly out of her cover and into full view. If she didn’t recognize these fledgling vampires, Maker willing, they wouldn’t know who she was either.

“Keep your hands off of him. This one is mine.” Alexia found it surprisingly easy to drop into the sinuous stride of a predator as she moved across the moonlit garden, drawing on years spent honing her body and observing how vampires moved. The tone of imperious, ringing command, however, came straight from her mother.

Her bluff worked, at least for the moment. The vampires hesitated, attention drawn to her as they evaluated the potential threat she might pose. Then they backed away warily, clearing space around Alistair, deferring to her air of unquestioned authority. Alexia suppressed a surge of exultant glee, keeping her expression haughty and aloof.

The unhurried pace of her stalk had brought her halfway across of the length of the garden before one of the vampires found the nerve to challenge her. “Why should we listen to you? Even if he was your prey before we found him, we don’t have to respect your claim. You aren’t Clan.”

Alexia sneered, keeping any hint of panic from her face as she stared coldly at the one that had challenged her. “No, I’m decidedly not Clan with the likes of you. So you are free to steal my chosen prey. If you want to explain to Nathaniel why you insulted the Vael Clan representative he invited to meet with him. I’m sure he will be interested to hear how his Clan treats a guest.” The lie should be plausible enough to give them pause, even if they didn’t entirely believe her. Abandoned neophytes wouldn’t be intimately familiar with the current Clan politics, and she was banking on them being unwilling to take a chance on crossing a member of the inner circle.

The vampire who had disputed her claim faltered, his expression of hostility weakening to uncertainty. But another, either less politically savvy or more bloodthirsty, took up the challenge. “It’s early. You can find other prey.”

“I don’t want to seek other prey. I like this one.” In three long strides, she closed the remaining distance to come up behind Alistair. Draping herself sensually against his back, she leaned up on her toes to continue glaring at the vampire over his shoulder. One hand snaked around Alistair’s chest, both for balance and to further stake her claim on him. “Look at him. Handsome, strong, and innocent. He’s mine, and I intend to enjoy him. If all you want is to feed, you can find prey anywhere. You have just as many hours before sunrise as I do.”

Undeterred by Alexia’s fierce stare, the vampire took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers in challenge. “It isn’t only about blood. This one owes us.” He winced as he moved, putting a hand to his side, and Alexia remembered seeing Alistair land a solid kick to the ribs on one of them. Apparently this fledgling held a grudge.

Emboldened, another vampire stepped forward to join him, this one female and favoring one knee. “He won’t make a good plaything anyway. You saw how he was fighting us.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow and favored the woman with a faint, mocking smile. “He doesn’t seem to be fighting _me_ , now does he?” She flexed her hand, fingers curling into near claws, their tips pressing possessively into Alistair’s pectoral as she narrowed her eyes at her opponents. “He wouldn’t succumb to you because he knows he’s mine, and I don’t like to share.”

Dropping her weight back down onto her heels, she pulled Alistair along with her, emphasizing his passivity and her possession of him. Her movement left him arched backwards by their height difference as she held his shoulder blades against her chest, his head stretched back, leaving his throat exposed. She could feel Alistair’s heart racing under the hand that still clutched at his chest, and all of his muscles were tensed with more than the awkward posture. In the guise of nuzzling her face against his neck, the way some vampires teased their prey, she offered a murmured reassurance. “It’s all right. Relax and trust me.”

Alistair let out a breath that bordered on a sob, swallowing hard and closing his eyes. He gave her a tiny nod of acknowledgment, and she felt some of the tension leave him, his head lolling back to rest on her shoulder. Maker’s breath, she hoped his trust in her didn’t end up being misplaced.

Alexia looked back up, feigning surprise at seeing the four fledgling vampires clustered a few yards away, regarding her with wary uncertainty. “Are you lot still here? As hungry as you were, I thought you’d have gone in search of your own prey by now.” She let her lips curl into a tight, mocking smile, careful to conceal her decidedly unpointed teeth. “Or do you want to watch?”

Keeping an intent, challenging stare fixed on the most daring of the fledglings, she lowered her mouth to Alistair’s throat and bit down, hard. His resulting moan convincingly mimicked the mixture of pleasure and pain of someone enthralled by a novice vampire, and she wrapped her free arm around his waist as if to steady his swoon.

Alexia continued to stare at the vampires, arrogant and unashamed as she “fed”, worrying her teeth against his skin and eliciting further whimpers. She tried not to think about how this must be hurting him; she couldn’t afford any show of weakness.

Two of the fledglings subtly slipped away from the garden, melting into the darkness, and Alexia’s knees nearly buckled with relief. If her ruse failed now, she could handle the remaining two easily enough, especially since they were both sporting injuries from Alistair’s earlier altercation with the group.

As the frozen tableau stretched on, each second drawn out in uncertain anticipation, Alexia wondered how long her façade would hold up. She prayed the dappled moonlight in the garden would hide the lack of blood from her bite. If she ever had to do this again, Maker forbid, she’d need to have the foresight to bite into her tongue first to make the show more convincing.

The female vampire shifted her weight, preparing to spring forward, likely intending to take advantage while Alexia was preoccupied with her “feeding”. Curling her lip with a hint of a snarl, Alexia fixed the fledgling with a menacing glare that caused the vampire to hesitate and her companion to shrink back half a step. Recognizing the erosion of her support, the female vampire cast Alexia and Alistair both one final contemptuous glare before turning on her heel and stalking out of the garden, her slight limp ruining the effect. The other vampire followed after her, sullen and angry.

Alexia waited for a long, tense moment to be sure their departure hadn’t been a ruse before she let herself relax. Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, she gingerly removed her teeth from Alistair’s throat and steadied him back upright from the awkward posture she’d bent him into. Alexia kept her hold on him until she felt confident he’d regained his balance. “Are you okay?”

Raising a hand to rub at his throat, he nodded uncertainly.

Alexia grimaced but shoved aside the urge to apologize. There would be time for that once they were fully out of danger. “Then let’s get out of here in case they get suspicious and come back.”

Concerned by Alistair’s dazed confusion, she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. Alexia paused only long enough to retrieve her sword from behind the trellis as they fled the walled garden and raced down the street towards her family’s home. She flinched at every flickering shadow, seeing a potential threat in any half-glimpsed movement, but they didn’t encounter anyone on their headlong dash through the sleeping neighborhood.

Once they were safely behind a threshold, Alexia finally gave in to the reactions she’d been suppressing, sagging against the closed door, grateful for the solid wood at her back. As her pulse slowly returned to normal, the shaky aftereffects of terror gave way to a sort of exhilaration, leaving her almost giddy.

Turning her head, she beamed a conspiratorial smile at Alistair. “I can’t believe that worked. I’d always wondered if I knew enough about them to get away with impersonating one.”

“You were pretty convincing.” He chuckled weakly. “For a while there, I thought you really had been turned.”

She smiled, pleased at the compliment “It helped to have a cooperative victim. Thank you for that. You did an impressive job mimicking the ecstasy of a vampire bite.”

Alistair flushed, his hand going to his neck, and Alexia moved to look at the injury, moving his hand and gesturing for him to tilt his head so she could see it in better light. She winced as she finally got a clear view of the side of his throat. She’d avoided breaking the skin, but just barely, and the area was already starting to bloom with early signs of bruising. She raised a finger to trace the edge of it but stopped when he flinched at her touch.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. If I could have avoided it…” She sighed. “That’s definitely going to be marked too visibly to hide. Your uncle will notice, at the very least.” Grimacing, Alexia stepped back, giving him space. “I apologize for ruining your reputation.”

Alistair laughed. “I spend most of my leisure time in the company of an infamous eccentric, usually after dark and engaged in suspicious activities I can’t tell anyone about. I’ve already made up more than one patently implausible story to explain to my uncle where I’ve been.” He smirked. “A bite mark on my neck isn’t going to be what ruins my reputation, Alexia. You’ve already seen to that in far more creative ways.”

An apology was on the tip of her tongue before Alexia realized he didn’t seem particularly bothered, grinning at her as he continued.

“But I should go before we wake the entire household and give people even more reason to talk.”

Alexia chuckled, moving away from the door. “Do you think you can make it all the way next door without running into more trouble?”

“Given my luck, it’s hard to say. You should probably watch from a window in case I need rescuing again.” He paused, hand on the door latch and a half smile on his face. “If you have to bite me again, could you get the other side that doesn’t already hurt?”

She smiled weakly. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“I appreciate it.” He slipped out the door, trying to move quietly enough not to wake the servants or her family. “G’night, Lexia.”

Whether he’d been joking about his luck or not, Alexia stood at the parlor window and watched until he’d reached the safety of his uncle’s house. It wasn’t until she was certain there was a threshold between Alistair and any prowling vampires that Alexia closed the drapes and retired for the night. 


	10. Stomach kiss

All of the luck that Alistair had been missing through most of his life must have been saving up for the past year. He couldn’t think of any other possible explanation for having survived and being with the most incredible woman he’d ever known.

Some days he still couldn’t quite believe that Alexia had given him a second chance. Or possibly a fourth by now, depending on how he counted things. Regardless, here she stood, in his arms and more significantly at the moment, in his bedroom.

Not that Alexia hadn’t been in his bedroom before. She had, several times, during his recovery. She’d even slept at his apartment more than once when he was first released from the hospital. On the couch, of course.

But this was different. Tonight she’d shown up with Chinese take-out, an overnight bag, and a stated intention to spend the night. With him. Which he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t imagined.

It didn’t help that Alexia had seemed withdrawn and preoccupied most of the evening. He’d suggested that she didn’t have to stay if she wasn’t comfortable with it yet. Her answer – “No, it’s fine. I… I want to do this.” – hadn’t been particularly convincing. But then she’d kissed him, and however uncertain her words might have been, her kiss clearly said that she wanted to be with him.

So he’d put his concerns aside for now, hoping she’d talk about whatever was bothering her eventually. And hoping she knew that nothing was going to happen, tonight or any other night, unless he knew it was what she wanted, what they both wanted.

Alexia had left her hair down, and he’d spent the evening enjoying that rare occurrence. At the moment, he had his fingers buried in her hair while he peppered kisses along her jawline. He eventually reached the spot under her ear that always made her melt, and she hummed with contentment, relaxing against him and running her hands up his back to pull him closer to her.

Eventually, tired of standing awkwardly in the center of his small bedroom, Alistair moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leading Alexia over to stand between his knees. He kept hold of her hand, feeling the tension in her grip but not knowing what he could do about it when she wouldn’t admit anything was wrong. Since she seemed more willing to accept gestures than words, he brought the hand to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. She smiled, tender and genuine, a look that made his breath catch as she stroked her fingers over his cheek with a slight rasp against stubble that marked the end of a day that had started far too early.

Alexia drew his hand up to the top button of her shirt with a look that was equal parts nervous and inviting. Hoping this really was what she wanted, he accepted the invitation. His fingers trembled a little on the first button – maybe Alexia wasn’t alone in having some nerves to overcome about this – but it went more smoothly after that. As he slipped each button free, Alistair couldn’t help but stare at the strip of skin revealed, marveling at how beautiful Alexia was and at the deliberate vulnerability she was offering him. Unable to resist, he leaned forward to kiss and explore, lips following his fingers along her sternum, into the valley between her breasts, and then down onto her stomach.

Alexia flinched away, and he stopped immediately, looking up at her. “What’s wrong? Should I not…?”

She shook her head, laughing and dissipating his fears. “It tickled, that’s all.”

“Oh, in that case…” Alistair returned his mouth to the same place, flicking his tongue over the ticklish spot to make her squirm and squeal, the sound surprisingly and delightfully girlish. A light grip on her hips kept her from wriggling away as he continued to tease her, enjoying her constant ability to surprise him with these unexpected moments of playfulness.

Alexia finally decided she’d had enough, shoving him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him, pinning his hands down to prevent any further tickling. “Not fair, exploiting my weakness like that.”

Her stern rebuke would have been more convincing if she’d been able to stop grinning while delivering it, but he didn’t get a chance to point that out as her mouth descended on his. The kiss started out aggressive and teasing but gradually became more passionate and tender. Alexia released her grip on his hands, trailing her fingers to his shoulder in a gentle caress. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, stroking her back and hair. Alexia’s hand slipped under his shirt, and he reveled in the feel of her touch on his bare skin. Pulling her even closer, he deepened the kiss, trying to hold onto this moment of connection and lose himself in being with her.

Which is why he was entirely unprepared when Alexia discovered a sensitive spot on his ribs and retaliated. Alistair yelped, trying to wriggle away as she pinned him down and tickled him mercilessly, laughing at his startled reaction. He probably could have tried harder to get free, but having Alexia lying on top of him, laughing and joyous, wasn’t exactly something he was eager to escape from. He wondered if she was aware of the effect she was having, pressed against him like this.

Eventually, Alistair rolled her off of him, turning himself to lie facing her. He caught her hand and kissed a fingertip, pointedly not releasing his grip afterwards. “Keeping you out of mischief.”

She grinned, eyes still sparkling with amusement, and he marveled yet again at how fortunate he could be to have this woman in his life.

As Alistair kissed her next fingertip, Alexia’s expression changed, her gaze becoming distant. He waited a moment before deciding to gently press her on it. “What thought grabbed you that’s more important than this?” He teasingly placed another kiss on her fingertip.

“Sorry.” She brushed her fingers over his lips, smiling tenderly. “I was just… This will sound silly.”

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

Alexia chuckled, relenting. “I realized that maybe it’s okay if I don’t know how to do this the right way because we can figure out how to do it our way.”

Was that really what she’d been worrying about this whole time? Apparently so, given the almost painful level of relief in such a simple statement. Berating himself over missing this for however long it had been haunting her, Alistair gathered her into his arms to hold her tight against him. He pressed a kiss to her hair before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I have no idea what the ‘right way’ to do any of this is, and I probably couldn’t manage to follow it even if someone gave me a detailed list. With bullet points and everything.”

Alexia pursed her lips in mock annoyance as the jibe, and he smirked at her before continuting.

“But I’m all for doing things our way. Because whatever that turns out to be, it means I’m with the most inspiring, caring, passionate woman I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” He grinned. “Who also has the side effect of making me unbelievably mushy sometimes.”

Alexia chuckled, and he could feel the tension leave her frame as she cuddled against him, pillowing her head on his arm. “I’d offer to work on that, but I like you when you’re like this. In moderation.”

“You’re probably going to be stuck with this version of me for the rest of the night.” He gave her a teasing grin to soften the offer of a way out if she was still looking for one. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I think I’ll risk it.” She gazed at him, her eyes serious and trusting. “I want to be here. With you.” 


	11. Belly button kiss

Alexia found it hard to sleep lately. Of course, that should be expected at this stage. Restless, she shifted her position on the bed, trying to get comfortable without waking up her husband sleeping at her back.

A nuzzle at her neck accompanied by a groggy mumble suggested she’d failed at that. “Can’t sleep?”

“No.” Alexia sighed. “Too much distraction.”

Alistair draped an arm over her, his hand coming to rest on her belly and getting greeted with a kick. Amused, he poked at her again with similar results.

Alexia grimaced. “Stop encouraging him. He already thinks it’s time to play whenever I lay down to sleep.”

“She. We’ll have boys later, but we’re starting with a daughter.”

Alistair had been amusingly insistent about having a girl since the start of the pregnancy, for no reason he’d ever explained, but Alexia was content to let it go at the moment. “Either way, I’d be happier if the little one decided to come out soon so you two can play at night for however long you like without keeping me up.”

Alistair made a faint noise of disapproval, propping himself on one elbow and sounding more awake. “Anders said three more weeks, at least, so you need to be patient.”

“Easy for him to say. Anders can still fit through doorways.” Alexia rolled onto her back, glaring up at her husband’s smirk of tolerant amusement. “And so can you.”

Chuckling at her grumbling hyperbole, Alistair smoothed his hand along the linen nightshirt pulled taut over her swollen belly. He leaned down to place a kiss on her navel, chuckling as the baby kicked at him again. “I know you’re crowded in there, little one. You need to be patient, too. And maybe let your mother get some sleep.”

Much to Alexia’s surprise, that seemed to work. The squirming baby calmed down, holding still for what felt like the first time since she’d lain down in bed. She rolled onto her side to take the pressure off her back, groaning as the movement started the kicking and wriggling again. “I think he likes you.”

“She.”

Alexia huffed out a breath. “Fine, then. _She_ likes you and wants to listen to you to talk.”

“Really? I’d think your daughter would have more sense than to listen to me.”

Smiling, she raised her head enough to peck a kiss on his lopsided grin. “No accounting for taste.” With a yawn, she flopped back onto her pillow, wincing as the baby kicked more vehemently. “Do you think you could tell her a bedtime story so she’ll let me sleep?”

Alistair stroked a strand of loose hair back from her face. “I’ll see what I can do.” He shuffled down the bed to put her belly at eye level, and Alexia bit her lip to not laugh. Settling in with his head pillowed on his arm, he began his story in a low voice. “Once up on a time, there was a beautiful maiden trapped in a Tower…” 


	12. Hipbone kiss

Alistair was not used to women walking into his room for a chat while he was half dressed.

Of course, he wasn’t particularly used to having a room of his own to begin with. But Vigil’s Keep could hardly be filled up by the handful of Grey Wardens rebuilding after the Blight, so it made sense they would have a room spare to offer a potential recruit while he waited to be evaluated. That didn’t explain why the other recruitment candidate had shown up at his door, though. Or why she didn’t seem particularly bothered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It might have been partially his fault for answering the knock while half dressed, but he’d been expecting Teagan, not Alexia.

Yet here she was, entirely unconcerned by his undress, striking up a casual conversation full of awkward small talk that he really ought to be paying more attention to if he wanted to have any chance at understanding what was going on here.

“You shouldn’t let the wait get to you. When the Commander gets back, I’m sure he’ll approve your application to join the Grey Wardens.”

He laughed weakly. “I appreciate the support, but I’m pretty sure I should be saying that to you. I’ve seen how you fight.”

Alexia shook her head in a quick, firm denial. “It’s not just about fighting. The aspect of protecting people, standing between civilians and a threat. That was what… You’d be well suited to that. Far better than I am at this point.”

“You’ve got better chances than you think.” How had he ended up reassuring her about this? “Hasn’t Levia been supporting you?”

“Surana’s in favor of me joining because recruiting me was her idea in the first place, not mine. But Nathaniel’s dead set against it; he says I’m unbalanced and too dangerous.” Her lips curled into a bitter smile. “Nate always was a good judge of character.”

“I’m not sure what that says about me, then, since he hated me on sight.”

At least Alexia didn’t try to deny it. “That wasn’t about you.”

Her eyes shifted away, and she folded her arms over her chest, discouraging further conversation on the subject. Which was completely fine with him. Alistair really didn’t want to talk about whatever was or wasn’t going on between Alexia and Nathaniel.

As the silence stretched on, Alistair wondered if he would make things more or less awkward by putting on a shirt. Would it be better to not be standing around half dressed? Or would that only draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t been wearing one and she hadn’t noticed?

Except she had, because now she was staring. Not leering, thankfully, but definitely… staring.

“It’s usually good manners to look at someone’s _face_ when you’re talking to them.” He shrugged. “Not that you’re talking at the moment, but that might make it kind of worse.”

Alexia frowned, glancing back up at him. She could have at least looked embarrassed or guilty or… something. “I didn’t mean to be staring. I was just…” She shrugged, gesturing at his side. “That scar.”

He looked down self-consciously to see which one she meant. Oh, right, that one. Of course. “It’s impressive, isn’t it? That’s my souvenir from the day we met.”

“I know.” She turned her head away from him, but even in profile he could see her eyes closed and jaw clenched hard. Her hands closed into fists so tight that her knuckles went white.

Alistair watched helplessly, unsure what he could do that wouldn’t set her off further.

By the time she turned back, a minute or so later, her breathing had returned to a controlled, even pace, although her hands remained clenched. Her eyes looked haunted. “I just… I… I need to stop looking at you and seeing… a ghost.”

He struggled with a wave of irrational guilt that his presence upset her this much. “I could stay out of your way, not make you deal with it.”

“No, I’ve already tried…” Alexia shook her head with a short, wry laugh. “I can’t.”

She couldn’t what? Before he figured out if he wanted to ask, she exhaled a steadying breath, offered a tentative smile, and spoke again.

“What I’m trying instead is getting to know you. So tell me about yourself.”

Startled by her abrupt insistence, Alistair laughed, spreading his hands. “There’s nothing to tell. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that interesting.”

She frowned thoughtfully for a second, then tilted her head to one side. “Scars are stories. I already know where that one came from, so tell me about…” Her eyes scanned over his torso and widened. “Dear God, you have a lot of scars.”

Alistair folded his arms over his chest defensively, recognizing it as a futile gesture since his arms were just as bad. “I’m a mercenary. I get paid to do things that frequently involve people hitting me with sharp sticks.”

Looking stricken, she shook her head quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… in a world with magical healing, why would someone have scars?”

Maybe her question made sense from a certain perspective, but she lacked a lot of context. “Anders has spoiled you.” He grinned at her expression of distaste. “For one thing, most people don’t have a mage handy when they get hurt. Most mages live in Circles, and the ones who don’t live there don’t tell people what they are, or they would live there, whether they want to or not. So it’s not exactly easy to find a mage right away when you need healing.” He shrugged. “Not to mention that most mages don’t heal as well as Anders does. Also, as you’ve clearly seen, healing spells, even from someone as good as Anders, can still leave a mark.” He gestured at the scar on his side, the one that had started this whole line of conversation.

Alexia tilted her head, considering his answer, and then startled him by reaching out to trace a finger over a faint line running down his shoulder. “So tell me about that one.”

The feel of her touch lingered, and Alistair tried not to let it distract him as he gave in to her request, deciding it was easier to go along with whatever she had in mind. He just hoped he could put an amusing twist on the story of a stupid mistake that had gotten him that particular injury.

 

Somehow, fifteen minutes later, Alistair found himself on a bed, partially reclining as a woman who acted like she knew him a lot better than she had any right to traced patterns on his chest, shoulders, and arms, while he shared stories about childhood daring gone wrong, training yard accidents, and times people had tried to kill him. He had no idea how any of this had happened, but he was starting to believe the theory about slipping between worlds through the Fade, because this most definitely was not the sort of thing that happened in the life he’d been living up to this point.

That said, the transformation in her was absolutely captivating. He’d seen glimpses of it before, but never this clearly. Around him, touching him, Alexia became a totally different person. She smiled, she teased, and once or twice he even heard a laugh that didn’t sound bitter or pained. Alistair thought he might finally be seeing glimpses of the Lexia her cousin had described, rather than the caustic, angry woman he’d met. He definitely preferred this version, and he could even see maybe wanting to know her a little better.

And not just because she was currently running her fingers over his hip in a _very_ distracting way.

Alexia had worked her way to one of his nastier scars, an ugly line curling over his hip and continuing under the waistband of his trousers, too recent to have faded with time. She had been rubbing her fingers back and forth along the raised scar tissue the entire time he tried to tell her about how he’d gotten it facing a group of bandits who turned out to be deserters from Ostagar and far more skilled than he’d expected.

Alistair’s delivery of the story definitely suffered from the distraction, full of pauses and corrections and stammering. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much further the scar ran down his thigh and what it would feel like if she stroked along the rest of it like that.

Definitely time to wrap up the story while he had half a chance of doing it coherently. And then she would hopefully stop touching him before his reaction became noticeable.

“So, um, that’s how I ended up with the scar, and I guess I got lucky. A couple of inches lower and he would have hit an artery. I doubt I’d be here to talk about it if he had.” His offhand comment and lighthearted shrug didn’t get the sort of response he’d expected.

Alexia’s hand stilled, frozen on his hip, as she stared at him, her expression unreadable. Without warning, her head dipped down, and she kissed the raised line of scar tissue next to her hand.

Alistair stiffened, unable to prevent a startled hiss. Her hands had been one thing, but Maker’s breath, her lips… How was he supposed to… Why would she… What was she thinking? People didn’t _do_ things like this. Not to him, at least.

Before he had any hope of finding coherent words, she looked up at him with an intensity that scattered what little wits he had left. “You need to be more careful. Stop thinking of yourself as an expendable merc.”

Discovering his mouth had suddenly gone dry, Alistair swallowed and then rallied enough to manage a weak laugh in reply. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s exactly what I am.”

“Not to me.”

Alistair stared at her, unable to look away from her piercing, painfully sincere gaze. His pulse raced with a mixture of anticipation, arousal, and sheer panic. Whatever he did next – and he had absolutely no idea what it would or should be – it was almost definitely going to be something stupid.

So, of course, Teagan chose that moment to finally show up.

“Sorry I’m later than I intended to be. I got caught up trying to pry information about running an estate and lands out of the Keep’s seneschal. You’d think grain harvests were a state secret the way he talks about them. Or rather the way he avoids talking about them.” Finding the door ajar, Teagan had naturally let himself in. His muttered commentary died off as he caught sight of the two of them on the bed. “I apologize. I had no idea I was interrupting.”

Alistair had frozen in shock and embarrassment as soon as he heard Teagan’s voice, despite not being sure exactly what he had to be embarrassed about.

Alexia, on the other hand, completely shuttered. Every trace of playfulness or softness vanished from her face, and her eyes went cold and flat. “You aren’t. There’s nothing to interrupt.” Standing abruptly, she strode towards the door, greeting Teagan with an icy nod. “I’ll leave you to it, Commander.”

Teagan’s frown drew an annoyed huff of breath from her, followed by a correction. “Bann.”

His frown intensified at her caustic tone. “You need to be more careful about guarding what you say.”

Alexia made a scornful noise as she brushed past him. “Why bother? Everyone already knows I’m crazy. And anyway, he doesn’t count.”

She disappeared through the door before Alistair could begin to wonder what she’d meant. By any of it. At this point, he’d settle for an explanation of pretty much anything that had happened since he’d found Alexia on the other side of his door.

Instead, he greeted Teagan with a shrug and a wry smile. “Give me a second to find a shirt.” 


	13. Outer thigh kiss

“Can you explain these to me?”

At a poke to her knee, Lista looked up from the seahorse winding himself around her fingers. She’d been amusing herself by getting the little pet to perch first on one hand, then the other. They played this game periodically, Lista transferring the seahorse back and forth until one of their patience ran out. Judging by the serious, determined look on Alexia’s face, the same one she used to get when trying to memorize a paragraph full of unfamiliar words, Lista was going to have to abandon the game and cede this round to the seahorse.

Gently disentangling Drago’s tail from her fingers and moving him to grip onto a nearby stand of seagrass, Lista turned her full attention to the impatient mermaid. “You want me to explain trousers?”

“No, I want you to explain legs.” Alexia frowned thoughtfully. “But maybe you could start with trousers. What good are they?”

Lista pursed her lips as she considered how to give an answer that would make any sense to merfolk. “Sometimes they’re for keeping you warm when it’s cold, but that works better when they’re dry. Mostly, though, trousers are about modesty.”

Alexia’s brow wrinkled at the unfamiliar word.

“Modesty is when there’s a part of your body that you’d prefer to keep private, so you cover it up to not let other people see it.” Lista felt somewhat proud of that definition. It might be somewhat limited, but she thought it put the concept in terms a mermaid could understand. There were days Lista thought that she was learning as much as Meriana at their reading lessons: Meriana became literate, and Lista got insights into how merfolk saw the world.

Alexia’s forehead wrinkled as she thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think I understand.”

Lista smiled fondly. “You may be the only mermaid who would, spending so much time wearing armor.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Lista regretted them, seeing Alexia cringe, shoulders hunching. Kicking herself for drawing attention to her lover’s vulnerability, she floated closer, putting her arms around Alexia, her fingers deliberately resting between the parallel lines of raised scar tissue on the mermaid’s shoulder blade. “Everything about you is strong and beautiful. Everything.” She could feel the muscles drawn tight through Alexia’s back and arms. Lista pulled her closer, murmuring against her ear. “It means a lot that you trust me enough to be with me like this, without the armor.”

As Lista gently stroked her hair and nuzzled against her neck, careful to avoid her gill slits, Alexia gradually relaxed. The mermaid pulled back enough to meet Lista’s gaze with a tentative, awkward attempt at a smile. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Lista grinned. “I never mind an excuse to hold you.”

Alexia returned the smile, but as Lista leaned in to kiss her, she wriggled away. Floating just out of reach, she crossed her arms and regarded Lista with a stern mock-glare. “I’m not letting you distract me until after you finish explaining.”

Lista laughed and drifted a little closer, not as subtly as she’d intended, if Alexia’s tiny smirk was any indication. “All right, so about clothes and human modesty. When I first met you, I thought you wore the armor all the time to cover your breasts.”

Alexia blinked at her. “Why would I do that? What’s wrong with my breasts?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Lista ducked her head to plant a brief kiss on the top swell of each of them. “Your breasts are completely perfect, and I should know because I’ve spent a lot of time studying them.”

The pink tinge to Alexia’s cheeks made Lista feel a bit better about the warmth she felt in her own. “So why would I hide them? Other than depriving you of the privilege of staring.”

Lista smirked and then let the jibe go, answering the question instead. “A mermaid like you wouldn’t. But a human woman would cover them because, in addition to being lovely, they’re sensitive.” Having already been scolded once about distractions, Lista resisted the urge to demonstrate. No matter how tempting the idea might be, it wasn’t actually necessary to make her point. “We prefer to keep parts of our bodies that are sensitive like that private, to only be seen by someone we choose to be with.”

Alexia considered that for a while, the little twitches of her lips and lowered eyebrows making Lista wonder what she wasn’t saying. With a tiny head shake of irritation, the thought passed, and Alexia returned to the question at hand. “So are humans’ legs sensitive like that, too? Since you cover them up with trousers.”

Lista should have realized she’d set herself up for that, but she felt her cheeks flushing anyway as she fumbled through an answer. “Not the whole leg, just some of the… other areas that trousers cover. But we cover up all of it because… I honestly don’t know. Because sometimes looking at legs makes people think about the areas connected to them? Because it would be inconvenient and uncomfortable to only cover up… the sensitive areas? Because it would look silly to arbitrarily stop the trousers at a random point along the legs? I have no idea, Lexia. Trousers just are, okay?”

Alexia stared thoughtfully at Lista’s legs as she processed this for a long moment. “Would you take them off so I can see?”

Lista chided herself for her immediate hesitation. This was no different than what she’d just thanked Alexia for, trusting someone even though you were uncomfortable with being vulnerable. How could she do any less?

Awkwardly, Lista stripped the sodden, clingy fabric off her legs. Every time she tried to get dressed or undressed underwater, she suspected that the merfolk’s lack of modesty resulted from the sheer inconvenience of dealing with constantly wet clothes. Her occasional thoughts of joining them were always short-lived, though. Cutting the sleeves and collar off her shirt to reduce the bulky fabric was as far as she was willing to go at the moment. Lista got stared at enough just for having legs; she didn’t really think she could handle the scrutiny she’d get if she had _bare_ legs.

Kind of like the way Alexia studied her now. Lista couldn’t decide if that look of mild curiosity made her more or less nervous than the reactions she’d gotten from undressing for previous partners. But Alexia’s apparent fascination with her ankles, of all things, was more than a little disconcerting.

Alexia backfinned, drifting closer to the sea floor to take a closer look, and Lista tried not to squirm under her appraising gaze. The mermaid stretched out a hand to touch, then hesitated, looking up for permission. “May I?”

“Sure.” Lista responded with a nervous grin. “I’ll tell you if something’s… uncomfortable.”

As Alexia’s hands moved over her legs – gently feeling her ankles to see how they moved, tracing the muscled contours of her calves, stroking the bend of her knee – Lista started to question her earlier statement that legs weren’t particularly sensitive. Because when Alexia touched them like that… suddenly, they most definitely were.

When Alexia’s explorations made their way beyond her knee, Lista closed her eyes to focus more clearly on the sensations of gentle, hesitant touches fluttering over the skin of her thigh. Gradually, the mermaid grew more confident, stroking and caressing. Lista swallowed all of the appreciative noises she wanted to make, afraid Alexia might be uncomfortable with her reaction. She kept her eyes closed and floated passively, trusting herself to the gentle currents and the touch of her lover.

The feel of Alexia’s lips on her leg, just below the hem of her shirt, startled her, drawing a gasp that filled her mouth with salt water. Lista tried to splutter and choke in an entirely unnecessary reflex that sent water moving strangely in her throat. Stupid bloody gills.

Shaking off the reaction, she looked down to see Alexia peering up at her with wide, luminous silver eyes. Laughing, Lista stretched down a hand for her to take, pulling the mermaid up to face her.

“Was that wrong?” Alexia sounded concerned.

“Not at all, love.” Lista brushed a finger over her cheek in reassurance, smoothing away her frown. “Just getting close to things I’m not sure we’re ready for. At least not until I know how to reciprocate.” Wrapping her arms around the mermaid, she drew Alexia in against her for a brief kiss, splaying her hands at what she would call a waist on a human, the place where skin transitioned into fine scales, cool and smooth under her palms.

Smiling against her partner’s lips, Lista returned to the conversation. “So I explained legs. Now teach me about fins.” 


	14. Inner thigh kiss

Alexia hadn’t seen Alistair since the Wardens had met in Riordan’s quarters. They had quarreled, a brief exchange of heated words, and he’d avoided her for the rest of the evening. She’d finally gone to bed, alone for the first time in months, and lay there in the dim light of an oil lamp turned down for the night, unable to sleep.

Sometime later, the door opened with a barely audible creak of well-oiled hinges. Alistair slipped in without knocking, treating her room as theirs, just like he’d done with her tent, and Alexia exhaled in relief, feeling the tension leave her body. She sat up in the bed.

Alistair glanced over, attention drawn by her movement, his hands already working at the buckles of his armor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t.”

He grimaced, pretending to be distracted with a stubborn fastening.

Alexia frowned. “About earlier…”

“Can we not talk about it?” Alistair looked back at her, suddenly looking weary and worn. “Not tonight.”

She considered his request, then nodded reluctantly. “Not tonight.” There would be time to discuss it later; she’d made sure of that.

With a surprised and grateful smile, Alistair returned to the buckles of his armor. Slipping out from under the blankets, Alexia moved to help him.

Alistair’s eyes lingered on her legs, left bare by the long shirt, less than she usually slept in. “Were you expecting me?”

“Let’s call it hoping, rather than expecting.” She closed the distance wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. He reciprocated eagerly, his embrace crushing her tight against the armor he hadn’t managed to take off yet. It didn’t especially hurt, but his armor wasn’t what she wanted to be pressed against.

When he let her go, Alexia started to work immediately on the buckles and catches he had struggled with earlier, setting his armor aside piece by piece as it came free. She didn’t stop with the armor, pulling off the padded shirt he wore underneath it. Alistair interrupted her before she could get any further, picking her up around the waist and carrying her back to the bed, where he proceeded to pull off her sleep shirt and begin covering her neck and shoulders in hot, insistent kisses. Alexia readily let him push her back onto the pillows as his mouth moved down her throat towards her chest.

Alistair lavished attention on her breasts, focusing on the caresses and kisses that he’d learned would make her melt and gasp. She clutched at his shoulder as he did his best to overwhelm her. They’d never quarreled before and rarely even disagreed, but Maker, if this was how he wanted to make up after a fight, she might have to arrange a few minor disputes in the future.

When Alistair moved on to less sensitive areas, leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach and leg, she regained her wits enough to consider that this felt off. After he passed up the opportunity to flick his tongue over a ticklish spot on her knee he’d been delighted to discover a few weeks ago, Alexia put her finger on the problem. Lovemaking with Alistair always involved teasing and laughter, but tonight he seemed serious and intent rather than playful and joyous. As his mouth made its way up her inner thigh, his kisses warm and gentle but thorough and meticulous rather than spontaneous, she understood. This wasn’t an apology; he was saying goodbye.

Suddenly angry – he didn’t want to talk about it, but he was going to do this? – Alexia propped herself up on her elbows, nudging Alistair with her knee. He paused in his slow progress up her thigh and looked at her curiously.

“Get up here.”

“Don’t you want me to finish what I’m doing?” He nuzzled at her thigh, breath ghosting tantalizingly close to her sex.

Of course she did, but that didn’t mean he could get away with avoiding the conversation like this. “I want you to get up here.”

Something in her tone got his attention, and he abandoned his efforts, shifting up the bed to lie alongside her.

Alexia cupped his face between her hands and fixed him with a firm look. “You are not going to die, love. I won’t allow it.”

His gaze flicked away, guilty confirmation, but when he looked back, his eyes were hard and determined. “That’s not something you have control over.”

She did, actually, at least indirectly. But having sworn the others to secrecy, it would be hypocritical of her to correct him.

As usual, when she left a long enough silence, Alistair filled it up. “Landsmeet or not, Ferelden’s just going to have to survive without me.”

“The kingdom might; I won’t.”

“Maker’s breath, Lexia…” He pulled her into a tight hug, her face buried in the join of his neck and shoulder. “Do you think I want to leave you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He sighed, so close his breath stirred her hair. “But I wouldn’t be the man you fell in love with if I abandoned my duty.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.” Even with precautions in place, assuming she could trust the enigmatic witch, the risk of losing him still terrified her.

“And ask someone else to take my place? How could I live with that?” He sighed again, shaking his head. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about this tonight.”

Alexia bristled at the evasion, but she acquiesced after a moment’s contemplation. There would be time enough to discuss things and explain what she’d done once the Archdemon was dead and he wasn’t. For now, maybe she could try to recapture the mood. “What _do_ you want to do tonight?” She brushed her lips lightly along his neck.

Alistair’s arms tightened around her, crushing her against his chest. “I just want to be with you. Please.”

She hated the note of desperation under his words. Since she couldn’t reassure him with the truth, not yet, she’d have to settle for distraction and making him feel cherished and needed. Not a difficult task at all. 

Hooking a leg over his hip, Alexia nipped at his earlobe. “One question then: why are you still wearing pants?” 


	15. Pelvic bone kiss

Lista had never been so happy to see the sky. After what had felt like weeks – maybe months – spent in the Deep Roads and Orzammar, she would even have welcomed being rained on because rain meant clouds, which meant something other than stone overhead. Relishing her newfound sense of freedom, she strolled through the small camp, periodically tilting her head back to stare at the clear evening sky. Judging by Morrigan’s rolled eyes and Sten’s condescending sneer, she must be grinning like a lunatic, but she felt too giddy to care about their disapproval. Sticking her tongue out at the witch when her back was turned – no sense in provoking the woman when she could see – Lista made her way to Alexia’s tent.

Kazaril lounged on the ground outside, raising his head to greet her as she approached. “Hey, boy. You glad to be out in the fresh air, too?”

The mabari whined when she walked past him to the tent. Taking pity on him, Lista kneeled down to scratch behind his ears. “Aww, are you feeling neglected now that Lexia has someone new to cuddle? Don’t worry, Kaz. _I_ still like you better.”

With a final pet to the hound’s head, she stood and ducked her head into the tent. “Lexia, I think your dog’s…” Her voice trailed off as she froze at what she found. Alexia reclined on the blankets, naked and flushed. Alistair leaned over her, and his head was…

With a yelp of shock, Lista dropped the tent flap to block out the sight. Two answering cries of shock came in echo, one of them muffled by more than the canvas, which didn’t help.

“Lista, wait a second.”

At least Alexia sounded embarrassed, but Lista refused to be mollified. “You are like a sister to me, and he is _literally_ my brother, and I did _not_ need to see that!”

Alexia sighed. “Give me a minute to pull on some clothes, and we can talk, okay?”

“No.” Lista crossed her arms. “I can’t talk right now because I’m too busy trying to retroactively go blind.”

Alistair’s snicker was cut off with a soft grunt, probably a result of Alexia elbowing him, if Lista knew her foster sister.

She felt pressure against her shin and looked down to see a seated Kaz leaning against her, his stubby tail wagging in the dirt. Lista glared at the amused mabari. “Traitor. You could have warned me.”

Kaz’s jaw dropped, tongue lolling out in a wide canine grin. Great, now the dog was laughing at her.

“Fine, yes, very funny.” Sighing, Lista gave the mabari an affectionate pat on the head before shoving him off her leg. “You go back to your nap, they can go back to… whatever they were doing that I refuse to think about, and I’m going to go somewhere else and pretend that none of this ever happened.” 


End file.
